Keeping Watch
by stephmcx
Summary: Joe had been right, of course, he is looking out for the people in his life, for his ohana, for his family—it's the very reason he is sitting here right now, keeping watch. (Coda to 9x12)


Author's Notes:

This is probably not really a coda, it's mostly a Steve introspection without much of a plot. But once I made the connection between episodes 9x10 and 9x12, I wanted to explore further-and this is the result.

* * *

Steve shuts the door quietly behind himself and starts tiptoeing across the small hospital room towards the visitor's chair by the window. Danny and Rachel had finally agreed to go home and get some much needed rest, even if they had been more than reluctant to leave. Steve had cajoled them into leaving by promising to stay by Grace's side and keep watch.

He won't leave her alone for even a second, although he hasn't gotten much more sleep than them. But sleep isn't his friend at the moment anyway. It has been a rough couple of weeks and now this—

Steve stops at the foot of Gracie's bed, and looks at her sleeping form for a moment. He hadn't seen her yet, Danny and Rachel had been with her when she woke up and they had spoken a few words with her, convincing themselves that she was responsive and okay and _alive_.

Now Grace is asleep again and she's pale and bruised and vulnerable lying there. It seems so wrong when Gracie is usually so full of life. That huge bandage around her head, monitors and IV lines and oxygen—she looks so fragile!

An enormous wave of emotion hits Steve square in the chest and involuntarily, he has to take a deep breath. Where it's mostly been relief moments before, at the thought that she will be alright, there is now an underlying sorrow twirling into the mix, a familiar feeling coming back full force, along with hurt and anger and—

It tears his heart out that he—they—hadn't been able to prevent this, even if he knows well enough that there is no protection against accidents, against shit like this. He balls his hand into a tight fist, glad that he already found and booked the asshole who did this, because Steve is not sure what he would do to him if he were to lay hands on him now.

He takes another breath, deliberately calm, and he reminds himself that Grace will be fine, that she will pull through this, that she's strong. He thinks of what she did, helping that girl Katie and standing up for her and some of the anger recedes and is replaced by pride. He had been so pleased, so impressed with her when he had seen the security footage from that diner. He had recognized a lot of Danny in her: from the body language when she told that guy off, to her fierce determination and her big heart seeking justice.

A smile steals itself onto Steve's face and he walks around to the side of Grace's bed. He reaches for her hand and strokes over it lightly with his thumb, he can't help it. He's proud and worried and angry and happy and—

Hell, if _he_ is feeling this torn up, he can't imagine what Danny and Rachel must be going through. He releases Grace's hand and puts it gently back onto the bed. He has always been fond of her, she is Danny's daughter after all, and of course he has known that he loves her, that he would do anything to protect her, but he feels overwhelmed by the force of his feelings.

Moving silently, Steve puts the visitor's chair a little closer to the bed and settles in. He stifles a yawn, instead rubbing his hands over his face, he's exhausted, too. He should have gotten himself a coffee, he thinks, but on the other hand there's little caffeine to be found in what hospitals generally issue as coffee. He really hopes Danny and Rachel will catch some sleep. Knowing Danny, Steve half expects him to just shower and change and show up again at the hospital in half an hour.

Before they left, he had pulled Danny into a tight hug and it was returned fiercely. They don't need words to say _Thank you_ and _Hang in there_ and _I love you_.

Rachel had hugged him, too, and even if she had done it before, it had still surprised him. "Thank you for looking out for us," she had said, almost a whisper into his ear. He hadn't said anything, just squeezed her shoulder lightly in response and then watched as Danny put an arm around her and guided her towards the elevators.

Steve leans forward in the chair, elbows on his knees and chin propped up on his hands. His gaze lands on the monitors on the opposite wall, displaying Grace's vitals, and he watches them for a moment—until he comes to the disturbing realization that he can actually read them. He knows what is being monitored and why, he knows which measurements are good or bad and even if he can tell that Grace is doing fine, that she's stable, a sick feeling hits his stomach. He's so fed up with hospitals and injuries, all the pain and worry and grief, people he loves getting hurt or killed—

He looks away quickly, trying to focus on Gracie, watching her calm and even breaths, a reassurance that she is alive, but all of a sudden, there is Joe's voice in his ear, low and rasping "The way I looked out for you, it's the way that you watch over the people in your life now."

Steve bites his lip and closes his eyes at the memory. It's fresh and raw, it feels like a band-aid has just been ripped off, exposing a wound that hasn't had time to heal yet. He remembers the godforsaken pine tree and the beautiful sunset, a stark contrast to the smell of smoke and blood, the heavy weight of Joe in his arms, the sure knowledge of losing the battle.

A huge lump has formed in his throat and he takes a shuddering breath. It's only been a little over a month, and while he thinks he's holding up okay for the most part, sometimes, just like right now, a memory sneaks up, takes him by surprise and unleashes all the pain and guilt and grief that he's desperately trying to overcome. Steve bites back a sob, but he can't hold back the tears that are running down his face now and he wipes them away impatiently.

Joe had been right, of course, he _is_ looking out for the people in his life, for his ohana, for his _family_—it's the very reason he is sitting here right now, keeping watch. He freezes mid-move, one hand covering his eyes, as an absurd question pops into his mind—had Joe felt about him the same way he feels about Gracie? He wants to dismiss the thought immediately, but after pondering for a moment, it doesn't seem completely unlikely. It's even kind of probable, coming to think of it and isn't that a strangely comforting idea.

Joe had never favored him. Not when Joe had been his CO, and certainly not during BUD/s—Steve is reasonably sure that Joe had actually enjoyed yelling at him. But Joe had always seemed pleased on the rare occasions that Steve asked for his help or advice.

He hadn't realized at the time, but looking back now, Joe had checked up on him regularly. He remembers talks between them about future plans, about the career he envisioned, about his decision to become a SEAL or what majors to study at Anapolis. Joe had always sought him out, had listened, had offered an opinion and hadn't left him alone with these steps in his life.

Steve wonders how many times Joe had pulled strings and intervened without him knowing about it—getting him out of prison for stealing that car had probably just been the most noteworthy one.

He also remembers that he spent quite a lot of time with _Uncle Joe_ when he was a kid. Sometimes Joe had taken Steve hiking or sailing or camping. Other times, Joe had tagged along with the whole McGarrett family like he belonged.

Steve has been thinking a lot about his last conversation with Joe, and he had already come to the conclusion that they had had a lot more in common than he thought. But how come he never realized he is the exact same person for Gracie and Charlie that Joe had been for him?

The door opens and a nurse comes in to check on Grace. Steve wipes at his eyes again, getting rid of the last traces of tears, then he gets up and steps aside to give the nurse some more space for her examinations. She moves quietly and efficiently around the bed, checking the IV, the dressings and the monitors before she gives him a reassuring smile and a whispered "She's doing fine." Steve returns the smile, nodding in acknowledgement and then she's gone again.

He remains standing, leaning with his back against the window sill, looking at Grace. How does she see him? Does she want him in her life? Does she _need_ him in her life? The situation couldn't be more different. Unlike him, Grace still has her parents around, even if they are divorced, but they care for her, they love her—

No. Yes. They go running together. She asks him for help with her schoolwork regularly. He has taught her the basics of self-defense. She has asked for his opinion on the colleges she went to visit with Danny. She does ask for his help and he is more than happy to provide it. He realizes he wants to have that role, he wants to be that person in Grace's life. And Charlie's. Almost like taking over from Joe, like an inheritance. Being there and keeping watch.

Steve shakes his head at himself. Danny's right, he is a sap, a giant marshmallow and he can't help the grin that's forming on his face. Oh, he knows what Danny would say about all these musings. He wouldn't have tolerated Joe's presence within a mile of his daughter for longer than five minutes. Only—

"I think maybe she, uh... she gets that from you more than me," Danny had said and _what the hell, Danno?_ A statement like this isn't something that Danny would ever say lightly. In fact, it's not a mere statement, it's a real compliment. There is meaning in it on several levels and no, he's not going there, not now.

Because the other thing that he has been thinking about a lot, and that weighs heavily into this equation, is what kind of feelings there might have been at play between Joe and Doris and John. And how that compares to the messed-up situation he is stuck in, with feelings that are too complicated—

A small sound from Grace startles him out of his thoughts. It's something between a sigh and a groan and she stirs. Steve walks over to her bed, taking a closer look, but she doesn't seem to be uncomfortable or in pain. He can see her struggling to open her eyes, and he takes her hand again, stroking it in a way he hopes is reassuring.

"Hey," he says, when she is finally looking at him, and he is not able to hide the huge smile.

"Uncle Steve!" Gracie's voice is low, a little raspy, but she squeezes his hand back and that is wonderful.

"How are you doing, sweetheart? Danno and your mom will be back soon." Steve feels like he should justify his presence, he doesn't want her to think that her parents left her alone after what happened.

"It's alright, uncle Steve, you're here," she says and there's a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, even if her eyelids are drooping again. It's the best thing she could have said, confirming and comforting and he's more grateful than he could ever put into words. Instead he bows down and presses a small kiss onto her hand, but she is already asleep.


End file.
